


Hold Me Now

by JulzSnape



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel in the Bunker, Emotional Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s09e22 Stairway to Heaven, Failing grace, Falling Castiel, First Kiss, Human Castiel, Ignores Mark of Cain, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, My First Destiel Fanfic, Protective Sam Winchester, Season/Series 09, Song Lyrics, Spoilers, kind of, post 9x22
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1662176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulzSnape/pseuds/JulzSnape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 9x22 Castiel comes home to the MoL bunker after losing his army to Metatron, all because he couldn't bring himself to hurt Dean. He had given up an army for one man, and he'd do it over again, but time is running out. His stolen grace will not hold out for much longer, but Cas is scared. Cas feels human emotions that he shouldn't, especially concerning Dean. Cas needs him now more than ever before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Now

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural or anything to do with the series. It belongs to the CW and their affiliates. I also do not own the song or lyrics Hold Me Now by Red; the rights and everything related to belong to the band and songwriter. I am not making a profit from my writing, and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> A/N: This is my first Destiel! Well, I have an AU Destiel that’s a WIP, but this is the first I’ll be posting. The inspiration for the story, and title, come from the song Hold Me Now by Red. I highly suggest looking the song and lyrics up on YouTube. The song is perfect for Dean and Castiel and I think I played it about a thousand times while writing this!
> 
> WARNING: SPOILERS for pretty much everything up to the current episode, 9x22. If you are not caught up, then read with caution! Also, the rating is more for language than anything else. This is slash.

The bunker felt strange; alien and unknown. Castiel had not spent much time there, at least not nearly as much as Sam and Dean. Castiel wasn’t even sure if he could say he knew what home felt like anymore. Once he would have said that Heaven was home to him, but now it only held painful memories of his failure. Though he was fighting to find a way back into Heaven for his brothers and sisters, he would never really be able to call Heaven home again.

If Castiel were perfectly honest with himself, home wasn’t a place; it was an emotion, one he had started to feel long before his stint as a human, though that shouldn’t have been possible. Losing his grace and falling had only solidified this feeling for him. Home was where the Winchesters were. Home was watching over Dean as he slept, worrying about Sam and his struggles with demon blood. Home was a White Castle cheeseburger, a cold beer and reruns of Star Trek with Dean on a rare lazy day in a motel room as Sam researched lore for a case.

As Castiel took the duffle that Dean had carried in for him to the room they had deemed as ‘his’, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel. The room was nice, if sparse, but he didn’t really have the need for much. As an angel, he didn’t need possessions like when he had been human, and yet he still carried them with him. He pulled the few outfits out and stowed them away in the chest of drawers across from his bed. A sweater and a pair of jeans, some khakis, a few button up shirts and a flannel he was pretty sure belonged to Dean. The last thing he pulled out was the blue vest he had worn at his first and only place of employment, the nametag stating ‘Steve’ still pinned to the breast. He couldn’t ever imagine needing such a thing again, and yet he still stowed it away with the rest of his meager wardrobe.

Home was the memories he had made – good and bad.

A gentle knock on his still open door startled Castiel as he closed the drawer a little too firmly, causing the small lamp on top to shake precariously. “Dean, you startled me.”

Dean stepped into the room and looked around, a small grin on his face. “Sorry, Cas, just wanted to make sure you were getting settled in alright. I wasn’t sure what you would need so there are pretty much just bare essentials. I know you don’t really sleep, but I figured it wasn’t much of a bedroom without a bed.”

Castiel sighed as he moved towards the bed, stowing his now empty duffle underneath the frame. “Actually, I have been sleeping recently. Dean…what Metatron said about my stolen grace burning out is true. I’m already feeling the effects. I get tired, hungry, and thirsty. I shouldn’t feel these things as an angel. I never had any of those needs until my grace was taken and I fell,” Castiel pointed out as he sat down on the edge of his bed, subconsciously rubbing his hand across the cool comforter beneath him. It was a gentle green color that reminded him of something, though he couldn’t think of what, exactly. At least, not until he looked up at met Dean’s green eyes.

“What does that mean, Cas? Are you just going to lose your grace like last time and be human again?” Dean asked, leaning back against the wall across from the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. There was a ridge of worry between his eyes and in the set of his jaw. Castiel felt a swooping sensation in his stomach, like that one time he had missed a step going downstairs after the fall.

“Not quite. When Metatron stole my grace, I was essentially turned human. With this stolen grace…Dean, it’s literally burning me from the inside out. It knows it doesn’t belong with me, or in this vessel. Most angels have specific vessels; they can’t just use anyone. Michael and Lucifer for instance. This grace… it’s going to start burning out my vessel. You saw the way Lucifer’s vessel was falling apart while trying to convince Sam to say yes.”

Dean pushed himself away from the wall suddenly, the worry turning to fear in his eyes. “What – Cas, why haven’t you said anything? We could have been searching for a way to fix this! What the hell, man? It’s not too late; release the grace, cut it out, something!”

Castiel stood up as well, feeling his vessel’s heart race as he shook his head fervently. “Dean, I can’t do that. I need it. I’m useless without any grace. I have to keep it until this whole mess with Metatron and opening up Heaven again is over. It just…it may be too late by then.”

Dean lifted his hands to the top of his head, running his fingers agitatedly through his short hair. “What the fuck, Cas? You’re not useless, god damn it! If me and Sam don’t need angel grace to fight Metatron, then neither do you. We can do this, the three of us. It isn’t worth letting yourself get burnt out. There’s no coming back from that!”

Castiel began to reach his hand out towards Dean to grasp his shoulder but thought better of it, letting his arm fall to his side as he took half a step closer to Dean, who looked about ready to punch something – probably Castiel himself.

“I was never a good hunter, Dean. I don’t know how to help as a human. I can’t fight Metatron and help my brothers and sisters back into Heaven as a fallen angel. I don’t…Dean, I don’t want to burn out, and I know there’s no coming back from this, but I have to. I owe my brothers and sisters that much, after everything I have done, everything I have put them through.”

“I thought that was why you stayed in Purgatory, why you let me go and leave you behind. You did your penance, Cas, now stop throwing yourself under the bus! Get that ticking time bomb out of you before it’s too late,” Dean said, his voice rising and becoming strained as his chest heaved with emotion. His eyes were bright with anger and fear, and Castiel could feel the worry and terror rolling off of him in waves.

“It might already be too late. I have to do what I can to help. This is my duty, to Heaven and to all the angels who have fallen due to my mistakes. I don’t know if I can fix what I’ve done, Dean, but I’m sure as hell going to try!”

The air seemed to crackle between them as their mingled fear and anger converged in Castiel’s small, modest bedroom. Though he knew Dean’s anger was born of fear and worry for his wellbeing, Castiel knew he couldn’t let Dean win this fight. He had to do whatever it took to get the gates of heaven open once more. If he had to give his stolen grace – his life – to do so, he would. That didn’t mean he was happy about it.

“I have to do this, Dean,” Castiel croaked out, feeling his chest constrict as something burned behind his eyes. He reached up as he felt something warm sliding down his cheek, and as he brushed it away, Castiel gasped. He was crying.

Dean’s anger seemed to bleed out of him as all of his breath left him in a gust. “Shit, Cas, you’re killing me here. Please just…I can’t… _Fuck!_ ” Dean cursed as he took the two steps left between them and pulled Castiel into a tight embrace, burying his face against the angel’s shoulder.

“I am scared, Dean. I’m terrified that even if I do burn out, it will have all been for nothing. Why can’t I do anything right? Why is this so hard?” Castiel asked as he rested his head on Dean’s shoulder, soaking up whatever comfort he could from his friend’s embrace.

Dean pulled back far enough to look into Castiel’s eyes, bluer than a clear day’s sky and shining with tears. “It’s hard because you care so much, Cas. Shit you don’t care about doesn’t hurt. It’s caring that causes pain.”

“Then I must care very deeply for a lot of things, because it seems the one human emotion I feel the most is pain.”

Dean closed his eyes briefly at those words, reaching up a hand and gently brushing Castiel’s hair away from his brow. “I know the feeling, man.”

Castiel licked his lips, something he had no logical reason to do, but had seen others do; like a nervous tick. This close to Dean, he could see the dusting of freckles across his cheeks, spreading out from the bridge of his nose. Castiel felt that swooping feeling again and scrunched his brow, his head tilting to the side instinctively.

“I don’t understand human emotions. One minute I am scared of burning out, and the next I feel…like I’ve missed a step going downstairs. Why do I feel that around you, Dean? Only you.”

Dean’s vibrantly green eyes blew out, the black of his pupils taking over as his breathing sped up subtly. He still had one arm wrapped around Castiel’s waist, the other trailing from the angel’s hair down his stubbled cheek to his jaw. “I…Cas, I can’t tell you how you feel. You have to figure that out on your own. Emotions aren’t the same for everyone.”

“I think I know what this feeling is,” Castiel whispered, his eyes locking with Dean’s. He could almost swear he could see right into Dean’s soul, the soul he had gripped tight and raised from perdition, the soul he put back together piece by piece with his bare hands. He knew Dean inside out, far more intimately than anyone else could ever dare to claim. His grace had left marks on the man’s soul, like fingerprints to match the handprint still burned into Dean’s shoulder. Castiel could feel those echoes of his stolen grace calling to him, drawing him in. Dean contained the last pieces of the angel Castiel once was; his soul sang to Castiel in a way no other human’s ever could.

One last searching look, and through the pain and the fear in Dean’s eyes, Castiel caught that flash of purest white, the less than split second that told him Dean was marked by his grace forever. Wanting to be as close to his old grace as possible, and feeling drawn to Dean as he always had since he’d pulled him from Hell, Castiel let the human instincts he’d tried to bury take over, and before he even knew what he was doing his lips were brushing against Dean’s. Chaste, gentle and slow, Castiel’s lips fit with Dean’s like puzzle pieces. Castiel sighed through his nose and pushed a little harder, his arms tightening around Dean subconsciously.

Dean gasped against Castiel’s lips as the pressure increased, became more insistent. He did not pull away, but neither did he respond. His hand was shaking against the angel’s jaw and his other armed tightened around him, drawing them both closer than before. One of Castiel’s hands trailed up his back slowly until it reached his hair, and then fingers were being woven through his short locks, nails scraping gently against his scalp. That hand held Dean in place while slightly moistened lips parted and then sealed themselves more fully to his own, all chasteness gone as an involuntary groan eased itself from Dean’s throat.

Finally, Dean parted his lips and pressed back against Castiel’s, pulling him in and tilting his head so that their mouths were that much closer. Dean’s hand slipped from Castiel’s jaw around to the back of his neck, causing the angel to gasp as goose bumps erupted on his skin. Dean took this opportunity to swipe the tip of his tongue gently against the angel’s lips.

With a groan of his own, Castiel’s mouth opened and invited Dean in with his own tongue, hooking them together and sliding against one another in a slow, agonizing burn. He allowed Dean to explore his mouth, trace the ridges of the roof of his mouth and wrap sinuously around his own tongue before Dean’s tongue pulled back, trying to coax Castiel’s into exploring his own mouth.

The momentary separation of their lips and tongues was long enough for them both to draw a breath in, then Castiel gently bit at Dean’s bottom lip, using Dean’s gasp of pleasure to slide his tongue in and lap at the hunter’s tongue with his own. Castiel did not have much experience in this, but he used whatever skills he had picked up and followed Dean’s lead when he wasn’t sure what else to do.

After what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes, Dean pulled back from the kiss, panting against Castiel’s lips as his eyes slid open. Castiel’s eyes had remained open, watching Dean, learning.

“Cas,” he whispered, a plethora of emotion packed into that one syllable.

“I guess this is what falling is supposed to feel like,” Castiel said quietly, his fingers still trailing gently through Dean’s hair. Dean smirked and pressed another quick kiss to Castiel’s lips, his eyes sparkling and shining with what Castiel could only call joy.

“You’re such a sap, Cas,” Dean chuckled.

Castiel had no idea what was happening, or what he thought he was doing. All he knew was that he might not have time to do this later, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. “Will you just…hold me now? I am so afraid, Dean. I’m not just falling – I’m tired. I’m burning and breaking and I can’t take it anymore. I need you to catch me.”

Dean’s chest was heaving as tears burned behind his eyes. His lips trembled as he nodded and pulled Castiel into another kiss, full of heartbreak, fear and love. He pulled away with a chocked gasp and leaned his forehead against Castiel’s. Their eyes locked together, lost in each other completely.

“I’ve got you, Cas. I’ll save you somehow; I promise.”

“Don’t make promises that can’t be kept.”

“I don’t.”

Dean pushed Castiel back until the backs of his knees hit the edge of bed, then eased the angel down as he followed and his body covered Castiel’s as they gripped each other tight. Dean moved to the side so that he and Castiel were lying side by side, then pulled him into his chest and wrapped his arms around him. Castiel’s head instinctively went to Dean’s chest as he twined his legs with the man’s, his hands clenched in Dean’s flannel.

“I can never go back, Dean. The past is dead, that life is gone. I don’t want to die.”

Dean had tears sliding down his cheeks as he pulled Castiel in tighter against his chest and bit back a sob of fear, regret and sadness for his best friend. “I’m here, Cas. I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ve got you.”

The hunter and the angel fell asleep curled up together on Castiel’s narrow bed, wrapped around one another in every way possible. A few hours later when Sam came to see where Dean had gotten to, the younger Winchester stood in the open doorway and smiled sadly, seeing the dried tears on both of their faces.

“God, help us,” Sam whispered, hoping beyond everything he knew that somehow, God was listening.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I hope you enjoyed it and my Destiel was a success! Please review and let me know what you think! Though I’ve been reading Supernatural fan fiction for a really long time, I’ve only just gotten into writing it, so I’m a bit nervous. Please let me know how I did!


End file.
